Sun Kissed
by dontmissthis
Summary: Jane and Maura take a quick summer outing to "their" place, and Jane has a few revelations of her own.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing yada yada.  
A/N: This season's premier has left me wholly…uninspired. And disappointed. So…I'm just going to write whenever the feeling strikes and if it's something pointless like this is, then so be it. I hope you enjoy it anyway.  
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"I love doing this," Maura barely whispers as she looks out through the dimming light around them. "Being here has a calming effect, don't you think?" Her head tilts back slightly, exposing the pale expanse of her throat, and Jane watches as Maura breathes in the fresh air filled with undertones of freshly cut grass and honeysuckle. "In a sense, it's almost euphoric."

Jane simply nods her agreement without looking away from her. They don't come here often—it's not often that they_ have_ to—but after a disagreement or boat-loads of stress or a particularly rough case at work during the spring and summer months, they load up a vehicle and drive past city limits to come here. To come to _their_ place. And even though they share it with as many as 100 people at a time, it is still their place. A place to be free from work and responsibility. A place to sit in silence with each other, or maybe whisper until it's long past midnight and they're shivering in a pile of blankets as they laugh with an abandon that belies the label of friendship they have pasted on this relationship…this _whatever_ they have.

It's theirs and Jane loves being here now more than she ever had as a child. Maybe it's because Maura who, until two years ago, had never been to a place like this before in her life and sighs in sweet contentment whenever they arrive. Maybe it's the way Maura seemingly tries to drink in the clean air and memorize every color of the sky as the sun sets around them. But whatever the reason, Jane loves watching Maura in those moments. Free and happy and calm, with her eyes shining brightly and the brush of her warm skin against Jane's as she tries to get comfortable in the very back of the Prius before the cheap double feature starts on the cracked and worn drive-in screen.

And tonight is no different.

In her red and white summer dress that rides up to mid-thigh as she sits, her light curls brushing her shoulders as she talks, and her bare feet crossed and swinging as they hang from the back of the car, Maura is the picture of contentment. Happiness. And Jane loves that Maura chooses her to share it with.

Jane licks some of the melted chocolate from her fingers and holds out the nearly empty Rasinets box. "Want some?"

Maura peeks inside and frowns. "Those are terribly unhealthy."

"C'mon," Jane reasons with a grin and wag of her eyebrows. "They have raisins in them. That's a fruit, right? Think of the anti-toxicals and the immune-boostermabobs you're always telling me about."

"I don't think I have to tell you that your logic is severely flawed," Maura replies as she reaches for the box anyway with a slight grin. "But I suppose a few won't hurt."

"Thatta girl," Jane grins as she rubs her fingers against her worn jeans, much to Maura's chagrin.

Fireflies start twinkling and flying around the grass in front of them, and Jane is taken back to the day where she and Frankie would spend entire evenings trying to fill up a jar with them to use as a nightlight. They never did seem to catch enough to be worthwhile.

A light wind blows wisps of her hair around, and she watches as a young couple pulls up a few spaces away from them. Her feet skim the ground as she swings her legs and she absentmindedly bites at the corner of her thumb.

"About the past few days…" Jane starts, but is cut off by the light pressure of Maura's warm fingertips against her arm.

"Don't. It was just as much my fault as yours."

Looking up to Maura's face, Jane imperceptibly shakes her head. "No it wasn't."

"It was," Maura disagrees, squeezing gently on Jane's arm. "I shouldn't have broached that topic with your mother. You had every right to be angry with me."

"I never told you not to."

"I should've known."

"Maura," Jane sighs. "Don't do that. You can't know everything."

"_No_. But I—"

"God," Jane exclaims in an exasperated huff. "Just let me take the blame for this one!"

"Fine," Maura finally states after a silent beat. "It's your fault and I hate you."

Jane's head jerks up and, with wide eyes, she gasps, "What?"

But she can only keep the serious façade up for a moment before laughing. The sound is a mix between sweet and happy and…_alive_ and it never fails to make Jane laugh too.

Still smiling, Jane leans close as she lightly pokes the end of Maura's nose. "See what you get for lying? Hives. Right in the middle of your face."

Maura good-naturedly swats at the finger. "Hush."

Jane turns her hand palm up, and Maura's automatically and perfectly slides into its clasp. Jane gives it a gentle squeeze. "I know you and Ma are friends and you talk about, you know, girl stuff. And that's fine. Ma always wanted someone like that and you need someone other than me to talk to. I get that. But can you _please_ never talk about my…sexual…stuff…with my mother again?" Jane raises her eyebrows as she looks Maura's way. "_Never_ again."

"I promise," Maura says with an exaggerated nod. Then she smiles and bumps her shoulder against Jane's. "She told me about…what was her name? Your older neighbor. Susan, I believe it was."

She stares at Maura with her mouth agape. Partly in shock and partly in a _please, God, vaporize me into a puddle_ kind of way. This is a story she never liked to think about, much less have to endure her best friend teasing her about it. "She didn't."

"She did," Maura nods with the most teasing grin on her face. "I never knew you had a crush on your neighbor. Well, your neighbor's breasts."

Jane visibly reddens. "I was four!"

Maura laughs at the embarrassment clearly written on Jane's face. It's not often the tables are turned, but she immensely enjoys making Jane squirm when she can. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll never bring it up again."

"I'm going to kill her," she mumbles under her breath as Maura's laughter quiets down.

"I thought the story was very entertaining," Maura placates with a light clasp on Jane's hand. But then she leans close with a barely disguised smile and conspiratorially whispers, "Did you really ask to see them?"

"Oh my godddd," Jane groans. She yanks the candy away from Maura's hand. "No more chocolate for you."

Maura gives her best pout—complete with puppy-dog eyes and a lip roll. "If I let you see _my_ breasts, may I have some then?"

Jane's eyes slowly trail down from Maura's chest and back to her face. Her arm thrusts out the box of candy. "You can have as much as you want."

Maura laughs at what she thinks is a joke, and bumps her shoulders against Jane's in the back of the small vehicle. "I'm glad we came tonight."

"Me too," Jane replies just a little too quickly.

A static, raspy hum sputters through the car speakers just as the sun dips below the horizon. A deep voice begins a very melancholy dialogue for the newest teenage-lovesick movie due out in theatres within the year. Maura's lips quirk up so lightly in a childlike happiness that only those that know her best would notice, and her hand wraps around Jane's arm with a squeeze.

But when the screen goes black and shaky and a loud heartbeat fills the speakers, her grasp on Jane's arm almost becomes unbearable. She lifts her feet off the ground and into the safety of the car. "You didn't tell me it was a horror film."

Jane looks over and can barely hide her amusement on the apprehension plastered on her friend's face. "Maura, you cut up people for a living. How does this scare you?"

"Because I autopsy people in a room," she explains with a more scared that upset frown as she looks around them to the few cars scattered beside them. "A _secure_ room. Not in the middle of a field…in the dark…with no protection."

Jane points to herself with a flourish. "Um…hello?"

Maura rolls her eyes in a true Jane Rizzoli fashion. "You know that's not what I mean."

But then a pout overcomes Maura's face and Jane quickly shakes her head. "I know that look. And the answer is no."

Maura's just pouts harder.

"Ugh fine," Jane agrees with a groan after all of four seconds. "But I get the back! And don't even think about getting that blanket around me."

Jane's legs scrunch up as she wiggles herself to press against the back of the back seat. "You need a bigger car."

"It wouldn't be uncomfortable if you had legs of an average length."

Jane gasps. "Did you just—did you just call me _abnormal_?"

"In not so many words," Maura retorts as she, too, lies down in the back of her little vehicle.

Jane resists the urge to laugh and lightly pinches Maura's side. "Mean."

After nearly half an hour of hearing nothing but the slightly labored breathing of her friend, Jane raises a brow. "Too scary?"

"Yes," Maura mumbles from under the quilt. "But also illogical. I don't know why I'm frightened. This scenario is nearly impossible."

"Face it," Jane says. "It's because you're a wimp."

"Am not."

"Even that answer was wimpy," she teases.

"Hush."

She finally lifts up corner of thick blanket covering Maura's head. "Can you even breathe under there?"

There's a defeated sigh. "Not really."

Jane tries to stifle her laugh as she throws the blanket out of the open hatch and to the ground. "C'mere."

Legs bent and tangled and more than a little uncomfortable, Maura turns and squirms until her back is pressed against Jane's chest. It's hot and cramped and Jane would actually kill someone for some air conditioning, but this feeling…this feeling of Maura nestled up against her feels so right and good and perfect that she wouldn't change it for the world.

After a while the breathing of her friend slows. Slows beyond being calm and into the deepness of sleep. Jane no longer watches the movie. But instead watches the rise and expanse of the body expanding and contracting as light puffs of air escape Maura's barely parted lips; the way the screen illuminates Maura's face just enough to see the fluttering of eyelashes against pale cheeks.

Jane's hand hovers over the bare shoulder she knows is sunkissed just enough to leave a dusting of freckles. She knows the skin would be soft and warm and silk against her fingertips, but slowly—and not without shaking—she puts her hand back down to the safety of her own side and away from her friend.

She sighs. Is Maura really considered just a friend when Jane feels so much more for her? It's like love and family and trust and hope and wonderment are all wrapped into this perfectly imperfect human being lying next to her and Jane grasps for the words to explain how it makes her ache and feel alive at the very same time.

It seems impossible.

But here lies Maura next to her in this cramped wimp-mobile, sleeping and no doubt drooling although she'll deny it when she wakes, and Jane knows. She knows Maura embodies the feeling so perfectly, so wholly, that no one else could possibly walk into her life and compare.

She finally dares to trace the small line of freckles running down the swell of her fr…_Maura's_…shoulder. Just lightly enough to touch, but not awaken. Jane has to clamp her jaw to force down everything welling inside of her.

It hurts to pretend she doesn't love her. But it would hurt even more to lose her.

The movie rolls to a close, and Jane suddenly doesn't feel like staying for the second feature. She gently shakes that same shoulder.

In the dark, it's hard to see Maura's expression as she wakes. But Jane knows what she looks like anyway. Eyes clearer than glass and shining like the purest honey dripping off the greenest grass surely blinking awake in that slow and heavy, but happy and nearly seductive way that her friend has. A smile is tugging at the corner of her lips as she stretches her legs, and her nose is no doubt scrunched in those few moments where Maura teeters between sleepiness and geared-up genius.

Jane smiles and is thankful she's hidden by the darkness. "Hey."

"Sorry I fell asleep," Maura says in that scratchy half-whisper that plagues her first moments of consciousness. "This week was apparently more stressful than I thought."

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking too," Jane starts before hesitating slightly. "Do you mind if we head out before the next one?"

She sees Maura's brow crinkle. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Jane half-lies. "Just tired."

"Okay," Maura replies, taking Jane's response at face value. She uses Jane's hip to prop herself as she sits up—luckily not hearing, or pretending not to hear the hitch in Jane's breath. She finally manages to crawl out of the back of the car, and grins down at Jane—all while holding out her hand for Jane to take. "Let's go home."


End file.
